Babe
by 1MadHat1
Summary: Jackson is 100% certain that Mark doesn't like him back. Or at least he was. Until Mark started using pet names to refer to him and now he has no idea what's happening. (Jackson Avery/Mark Sloan)
1. It Begins

The first time it happened, it was, of course, in surgery. Jackson thought that the only exciting thing that was going to happen to him today was that Sloan had allowed him to assist is particularly interesting rhinoplasty. A surgeon from a different hospital completely botched this woman's rhinoplasty, causing her to have numerous breathing issues along with a dorsal nasal cyst that had been left to grow for a little too long. Sloan has the task of both removing the cyst from the nostril without damaging the nose further and attempting to fix the already disastrous breathing issue.

It was honestly amazing to see first hand, the brilliance of the older man at work. The focused look in his eye and his steady hands sent shivers down Jackson's spine, his mind briefly wondering how those hands would feel on his skin. This wasn't the first time these thoughts had surfaced, and Jackson was no longer surprised or put off by them. He figured out a while ago that he has developed a massive crush on the Sloan, and he wanted nothing more than to pursue it, but Sloan isn't gay. Sloan is the exact opposite of gay, he is a man-whore, yes, but he is a man whore for women only. And if he were to experiment with the same sex, Jackson definitely wouldn't be the first pick. The gayest thing about the two's relationship is the name Plastics Posse that Sloan had come up with, which Jackson has kind of grown to love over the last few months.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he situated himself to try to get a better angle over Sloan's shoulder and readjusted his grip on the suction tool. Just as they were getting to the critical part of the surgery, Jackson had the pleasure of watching as Sloan's eyes turned more serious and his entire being became one with the scalpel he held. He would never get tired of that.

Sloan leaned slightly over to Jackson and gently asked, "A little more suction, babe," not taking his focus off of the task at hand. Jackson, of course, immediately does what Sloan asked before what he had said fully registered in his mine. A blush settles on his cheeks, and his heart starts beating faster as rapid thoughts of what the fuck swim around his head.

His neck snaps up to look at Sloan's face from where he had been studying his fingers. Jackson didn't really know what he expected to find on the others face, a smirk maybe, something, anything that told the younger man that what he just heard was a stupid joke that had fallen flat. But what he found on his feature was just Serious Sloan, completely absorbed in his task. Suddenly, Jackson realizes that Sloan had no idea what he just called him.

He glances around to make sure that no one else heard the exchange, relieved to see that everyone is too focused on the actual surgery to listen to what Sloan had said. Skeptically, Jackson's gaze fell back to the other's fingers, helpless to stop with panicked thoughts. A never-ending cycle of question marks and bitter hopefulness was soon the only thing that he could think of. Thankfully, he isn't left to his thoughts for long as a sharp, rapid beeping pulls Jackson out of his head as he assesses the situation.

"Damn she isn't breathing, I need to get this cyst out right now," Jackson heard Sloan yell as his already quick hands worked even faster. Before Jackson can give what just happened another thought, Sloan started yelling orders at him. After they had removed the cyst and the woman was once again breathing easily, all thoughts of the incident completely slipped from his mind.

Until it happens again.

Jackson, after working for nearly 14 hours straight, wanted nothing more than to curl up in his sheets at home. So as soon as Sloan had given him the official okay to leave for the night, he had all but sprinted to the locker room to change. After he had taken a quick shower and changed out of his scrubs, he packed up his stuff and laid down on the bench, drifting in and out of consciousness waiting for April to finish getting ready. She always took such a long time.

After about 10 minutes, April gently shook his shoulder to wake him up announcing that she was finally ready to leave. He heaved himself off the bench and staggered to his feet, making a beeline for the elevator. He had been so close to freedom when he heard a voice, "Jackson." Without even looking he knew immediately that Sloan was the one that was trying to get his attention. He wanted nothing more than to completely ignore the other man, but April stopped him from walking away by grabbing onto his shirt, a sigh escaped his lips as he turned around and sleepily rose his eyebrows.

Sloan was completely hunched over the counter of the nearly abandoned nurses' station. His eyes harshly reading and re-reading the notes of a particularly interesting case that they had just been assigned. Sloan's brows had furrowed in concentration, and his teeth were gnawing at his bottom lip, a habit he only resorted to when in deep thought. The sight was something to behold, and it sent a sharp feeling of want through Jackson's sleep riddled brain. He was openly staring at the other man's lips at this point, and it took a light shove from April for him to realize that Sloan's lips were moving,

"Could you grab me that chart," Sloan didn't gesture to a chart or specify the one he was talking about, but Jackson still knew exactly the one that he was talking about. He stumbled over to the rack they kept the charts in and was able to find the one he wanted fairly quickly. Pulling it out he made his way back to the older man whose eyes were still glued to his notes. Sloan put out a hand and Jackson clumsily placed the chart onto it, before turning on his heel towards April and the elevator. He was just about to take a step toward his escape route when he heard, "Thank you, babe."

Jackson froze. His eyes snapped to April who, from her wide, confused eyes and slightly amused smile, had indeed heard the comment. He felt his face heat up and his heart beating rapidly in his chest as the situation had successfully pulled him from his sleepy haze. A brief glance back at the man only succeeded in proving his theory that Sloan had no idea what he had just said. He almost had a panic attack when he heard April start to ask, "Why di-" before he yelled,

"Good night!" Roughly grabbing the red head's hand and pulling her towards the elevator. He hears a distracted hum of agreement from the silver hair man, still consumed in his work. He nearly breaks the call button when he punches it in a panic, April lets out a startled gasp as the out of place violence, but a harsh glare from the man makes her retort die on her lips.

Once they are safely tucked away in the elevator, he leans his forehead against the elevator doors as his nervous panic slowly starts to fade. The cold metal feels heavenly against his flushed skin, and it succeeds in cooling his face to its standard color. Now that the adrenaline was fading away he once again felt the tiredness creep back into his mind. But a glance over at his friend told him that he was going to be up for a while yet.

"Before you even ask, can we just get home first?" April's eyes go from questioning to sympathetic in less than a second as she slowly nods. Placing a hand on her tired friend's back, slowly moving it up and down in a soothing pattern.

Once they were both home and in their pajamas, Jackson basically threw himself onto April's bed, face first. He buried his head into one of her fluffy, pink encased pillows and inhaled the flowery scent. He felt his heart rate slow and any leftover panic or embarrassment lessened the more deep breaths he took. After a few minutes, he felt normal again, more clear-headed and logical, no longer tense with stress.

He felt a dip in the bed, and then the comforting weight of April settled on the bed beside him. Although he wanted nothing more than to curl up with the soothing heat of his friend and sleep for all eternity, he forced himself to turn on his side. He wasn't at all surprised to find the girl staring at him with expectant eyes, and after a few beats of him saying nothing she gestured for him to start. He rolled his eyes but started anyway.

"So Sloan started calling me babe like a week ago, and I don't think he even knows that he is doing it," his voice was still heavy with sleep and recalling the current situation caused a light blush to discolor his cheeks. "I don't know why its happening or what to do about it."

"He's just started calling you babe subconsciously?" Disbelief was evident in her tone and Jackson had to agree that what he had just said did sound impossible. But it was true, so he gave her a little nod and a confused shrug.

"Yep," he replied popping the 'p.' Sympathy creased her brow, and she reached over to reassuringly pat her friend's shoulder. But no matter how much she tried to suppress it, she couldn't help the small giggle that bubbled from her lips. But once she started, she couldn't stop herself and what started out small turned into a massive laughing fit.

"I'm sorry...but...it's...it's so unexpected," she managed to squeeze out in between laughter. Seeing his best friend laugh, made Jackson realize that the whole situation really was ridiculous and suddenly, he was laughing right there with her. The two of them made quite the sight, resident surgeons who have been awake for at least 32 hours laughing until tears rolled down their faces in the wee hours of the morning. In their defense, it's been a really long day.

Eventually, they managed to sober up enough to quiet their laughter and continue the conversation. "So what are you going to do about it?" The question, although fair, came out of nowhere and all Jackson could do was stare at her blankly. "Jackson, your crush started calling you pet names. You need to do something."

"I honestly don't know, he doesn't even know he's doing it, how do you bring that up to someone?" To her credit, she did take a second to think about it before giving up and shrugging her shoulders.

"I don't know, but you need to figure it out." With that thought, they both finally slipped into a blissful sleep.


	2. The New Normal

After the talk he had with April, weeks had come and gone without Jackson making any effort to confront the older man about the weird habit that he had developed. To be honest, it started to be a regular thing between the two men, Jackson didn't even realize it anymore, it had become the new normal. He just rolled with it now.

Jackson and Sloan were sitting on one of the extra hospital beds that lined the side of a nearly abandoned hallway. Surrounded by books and notes, Jackson is rapidly researching an upcoming surgery while Sloan is laying on his back struggling through a crossword puzzle.

The younger man was enjoying himself immensely, he can't remember having such a good time studying before. Sloan's head was lying on one of Jackson's pile of books while his legs swung childishly back and forth over the side of the bed, the occasional frustrated groan falling from his lips. The way that he would drop his muscled arms and tilt his head back to look at Jackson when he asked a question had a pang of want shooting through his body.

They would lapse into compatible silences that made Jackson feel safe, comforted. The opposite of the tenseness that silences usually brought and the new feeling only succeeded in sending Jackson further down the rabbit hole that is Mark Sloan. But that thought didn't scare him, it instead made his body feel lighter, like any moment he could float away on contentedness.

Jackson, from the sudden influx of frustrated mumbling and high pitched whining, could tell that Sloan had reached an impasse in his crossword, "Stuck?" The question caused the older man to yet again drop his arms to his chest and an adorable pout to adorn his lips. Jackson suddenly had to suppress to need to lean down and kiss the expression right off his face.

Tilting his head back he made eye contact with the younger man before answering, "Yeah, I'm so close though." Jackson had to drag his mind out of the gutter and not think of the dirty implications of that sentence. No think about the older man hovering over him, leaning down and whispering that into his ear as his thru-Jackson purposefully ripped himself from that thought and refocused himself.

"Why are you forcing yourself to finish this again?"

"Because stupid Derek is so smug about being able to solve a stupid crossword puzzle, I can do it too damn it!" Sloan's brilliantly colored eyes flickered with determination and anger, his mouth curved into a more intense frown as he picked the puzzle up again. The dedication to such an absurd thing like a crossword had an unexpected smile spreading across his face and a laugh to erupt from his throat. He was vaguely aware of Sloan's eye-widening and a faint pink to shade his cheeks, but Jackson was too busy laughing to really process what that meant. "What, you don't think I can solve it?"

Jackson could hear the slightly offended tone seep into the question and he was quick to correct the man, "No that's not it, I just love how passionate you are about it, that's all." Sloan's mouth opened up in a silent oh, as he quickly looked back at the crossword that laid in his lap. It eluded the younger man how Sloan could go from being irresistibly hot to undeniably cute so fast, the swift changes made his head spin. But it didn't really matter because either way, whether hot or cute, Jackson still wanted to kiss the life out of him.

The comforting blanket of silence fell over them again as Sloan refocused on his crossword and Jackson continued taking notes. Although the darker skinned man was still intensely focused on his research and notes, he still revealed in every sound that the other man-made. The complaints and the cheers of victory alike set his skin on fire and made butterflies swarm his stomach. But he was able to mostly get it under control until Sloan spoke again,

"Hey babe, what's an 8 letter word for lickety-split?" The nickname no longer caused him to freeze and hyperventilate, but it still made him flush with embarrassment. After he recovered he quickly ran through all the possible answers before picking out the only one that would fit,

"In a trice." Confidently he looked over and watched as it fit perfectly into the crossword. Sloan once again looked back at him through his lush lashes, surprise was obvious on his face, but if he didn't know better, he would say that his pupils looked a little dilated.

"How do you even know that?" He questioned, curiosity twisting his features. The snarky smile that had found its way onto Jackson's face dimmed a little bit when he thought of the answer. The curiosity withered a bit along with Jackson's smile, replaced instead by intense worry for his best friend. Jackson dropped his vision to the book in his lap and gave a half-hearted shrug saying,

"My grandfather does a lot of crosswords, you pick up a few things here and there." It suddenly clicked in Sloan's head, he knew precisely what his better half was thinking. It is something along the lines of just another thing that I can do because of my grandfather. Sloan didn't know how the other still hadn't figured out that his grandfather no longer had any control over him. Everything that he has achieved is because of how talented he is, it didn't have anything to do with Harper Avery. Sloan had inadvertently made it his life mission to drill that idea into Jackson's head every chance he gets.

"Wow Jackson, I can't believe you remembered something so trivial from so long ago, you're amazing," The sudden praise made a small blush appear on his face and a soft smile to curl his lips. Surprisingly, when he looked over at Sloan, he didn't see a hint of sarcasm, instead a pair of serious eyes and a look of sheer awe showed on his features. The expression made Jackson's smile to grow wider and a darker shade of pink to cover his cheek. A nervous chuckle spilled from his lips as he absentmindedly twirled a pencil between his restless fingers.

"Thanks, Mark." he couldn't remember ever being happier.


	3. Manipulation

The name didn't just make him feel giddy, it also had some kind of influential power over Jackson. If Sloan asked him to get coffee, he would say "Hell no, get your own coffee," but when Sloan subconsciously tacked "babe" onto the end of the request, he couldn't retrieve it fast enough. It was weirdly manipulative for someone who still had no clue he was doing it in the first place. It made him agree to things that, usually, he would never do in a million years and the control that an oblivious crush had over him would scare him if it were anybody else, but it was Mark. And it wasn't really a big problem, so what if he got Mark a few cups of coffee, that wasn't that bad he could deal with that, Mark couldn't make him do anything too severe.

At least that's what he thought before he woke up in bed with him.

His sleep muddled brain panicked immediately when he felt the extra weight that was pressing down on his chest. When he saw that it was Mark curled up in his arms, face pressed into his chest and hands wrapped around his clothed torso, his panic faded. The events of the prior few hours resurfaced in his mind as he gazed at the peaceful man's face, soft snores emanated from his throat with every deep breath. It was adorable.

He couldn't help but smile a little at the memory of what led to this exact moment. With the lulling sounds of Mark's breathing and the comforting weight surrounding him, he let himself sink back into the memories.

 _ **A Few Hours Earlier...**_

Jackson felt the familiar pull of exhaustion on his eyelids as he finally stumbled out of the OR after an unbelievable 15 hours of emergency surgery. His back hurt, his eyes stung, he couldn't feel his fingers or feet, but he felt amazing. They had just saved someone's life, that thought kept bouncing around in sluggish brain making him feel unstoppable.

A quick glance at Mark told him that, now that he was out of the OR, he let the full force of his exhaustion weigh down his shoulders. Dark circles appeared underneath his bloodshot eyes, staring meaninglessly at nothing while he struggled to lift his heavy limbs. When he leaned heavily against the wall waiting for Jackson to finish scrubbing out, he fell asleep and nearly tumbling to the floor. Thankfully, Jackson had been checking the man out and noticed when he started to tip forward and was able to catch him. Jackson reveled in the feeling of his head buried in the crook of his neck and the strength of the hand that gripped his waist to keep his balance.

"Okay, let's get you to bed, yeah?" He felt as Mark slowly nodded his head, still pressing his face into Jackson's shoulder. "Yeah, okay, come one," he said pulling the older man out of the scrub room and to the nearest on-call room. The dead weight of the other made the pain in his back exponentially worse, and the confused looks he got on the way made him flush in embarrassment. But he was too tired, in too much pain, and too concerned for Mark to really give a damn about what the random hospital staff thought.

It felt like an eternity before he finally reached the on-call room and pushed open the door. He kicked the door closed before shuffling to the bed and slowly lowering the sleeping man onto it. After making sure that he was securely laid in the bed, he stretched out his aching back, surprising himself with the satisfying crack that echoed through the room. He leaned over the unconscious man, slipping the pager off his waist, placing it on to the nightstand before moving to his shoes. Making quick work of the white laces, he slowly pulled the shoes off his feet before tossing them on the floor. Jackson then spent a solid 5 minutes struggling to get the covers out from under the man and over him, amazingly he stayed asleep throughout the entire endeavor.

After he was successfully tucked in and sleeping soundly, Jackson took a minute to just admire him. He watched enamored by the peaceful expression that softened the harsh lines of his features. He was glad that he was able to find some release from the constant expectations and drama that followed him around during the day, even if it was only during sleep. His hair was endearingly tousled, the usually well-placed strands instead curled into his face, making him look younger. He had to hold himself back from leaning forward and kissing his loose lips and running a hand through his hair until all the strands were back in place.

Looking at the sleeping man-made Jackson's exhaustion much more prominent, he wanted to slide into the man's strong arms and fall asleep alongside him. But he knew he couldn't sleep in the middle of his shift, afraid he might miss any particularly intriguing cases to any of the other residents. Letting out a small sigh he started turning back towards the door, with full intentions of chugging a whole pot of coffee before going back to his grueling work.

But before he could even take a step, he felt a hand grab onto his scrubs and weakly pull him back. Jackson turned to look at the other and has to lean a tad closer to hear the older man whisper, "stay here," his voice heavy with sleep. Jackson took an experimental step away from the bed only to feel the loose grip tighten and pull him hard enough he nearly fell over. Mark managed to slide his eyes open just enough so that Jackson could see the brilliant blue color when he whispered, "please, babe?"

Jackson melts at the adorable scene in front of him, and the added use of the pet name made him putty in Mark's hands. "Yeah, okay," he softly replied, that satisfied Mark and caused his hand to go limp and his eyes to drift shut. He untangled his hand from the fabric to quickly lock the door before returning to the older man's bedside again.

Slipping off his shoes and placing his pager beside the other, he pulled the covers down and slowly slid into the bed. He almost moaned at the feeling of his sore body sinking into the mattress. His body singing in pleasure at finally getting a break from continually standing, moving and running. Once he was lying comfortably, he felt Mark curl around his body, wrapping his arms around his torso and resting his head against his chest. Who knew the standoffish man was a cuddler, not that he was complaining. Jackson had no intention of falling asleep, but the comforting body heat of the other man coupled with his exhaustion made him fall asleep instantaneously.

 _ **Back in the Present...**_

The sound of Jackson's beeper going off shook him from his memories and back into the present. He quickly silenced it before the annoying noise could wake up the other man, it was apparent he needed his sleep. He read the page and sighed heavily when he realized that it was April asking where he was, that he had missed a fantastic case and he better get down here right now if he wanted any part in it.

He briefly felt disappointed at the loss of a good case before he glanced down at the sleeping figure that was still using his torso like a body pillow. Looking at the sleeping face pressed against the skin right above his heart made it impossible for him to feel like he missed out. He would take cuddling with Mark over a case any day, he never felt more peaceful or relaxed before in his life.

But as much as he would like to stay here for the rest of eternity, life calls, or rather pages, and he can't avoid it for much longer. As careful as humanly possible, he untangled Mark's arms from around his torso and lifted his head so that Jackson could slip out without disrupting him too much. He grabbed a pillow from a different bed and arranged it back in Mark's grasp to give the allusion that he had never left. Tying his shoes back on, he got one last look at the handsome man cuddling a pillow before grabbing his pager and quietly leaving the room.


	4. Good Luck with That

Over the next couple weeks, Jackson no longer really noticed when Mark called him "babe," it had gotten as common as calling him by his actual name. Jackson didn't know how it happened, but the occurrence just stopped being weird to him. It only reoccurred to him that the situation was abnormal that Jackson now willing responded to pet names when Mark was talking to Shepherd.

Jackson had nonchalantly glanced over at Mark, who was completely engaged in a conversation with Shepherd about an emergency patient that was just brought in. They stood in front of a lightbox, some extremely worrying scan attached to it. They proved that she had suffered extensive damage to her brain stem along with severe burns that needed to be treated as soon as possible. The two attendings were debating the best course of action, both injuries needed to be dealt with immediately but would be nearly impossible to achieve doing both at the same time.

Jackson knew it was serious when he saw Mark's hand come to rest on his chin, fingers rubbing at his beard. Jackson had almost immediately picked up on his habits, gestures, and nervous ticks. Like his restless hands that tap out rhythms when he goes too long without holding a scalpel or how his number of cups of coffee triple after he loses a patient. Thoughtfully rubbing his chin meant that he was deep in thought, and he was completely stuck and getting irritated.

He made a move toward him, figuring that maybe he could help calm Mark down before his chin rubbing escalated into rapid foot tapping. When he got in the vicinity of the two, Mark stepped towards him and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the lightbox. Jackson stumbles a little at the sudden movement, but Mark steadies him by placing his other hand on the small of his back. Jackson was so focused on the issue at hand that he didn't even notice that Mark's front was pressed tight against his back and that his hands were still on him. But most of all he missed the look of frozen confusion that spread across Shepherd's features.

And the mere look of confusion turned to horror when Mark leaned into Jackson a little more and spoke into his ear, "What do you think of this, babe?" To Shepherd's surprise, Jackson didn't seem at all surprised at how Mark was acting although he was entirely out of character.

"Well, if Dr. Shepherd works on the damaged brain stem while we treat some of the more serious burns on her chest and arms. After that, we should be okay to leave Dr. Shepherd to finish his repair before we go back in and look after the rest of the burns." While Jackson gave his own evaluation of the problem, his confidence grew when he felt Mark's stubble grazing his head while he nodded along.

"And if we covered them as a temporary fix, we should be okay to leave them unattended for a while," once they had reached that conclusion, he stepped away from Jackson, dragging his hand along his back, and turned towards Shepherd. "Yeah, that would work, what do you think, Derek?"

But Derek was still frozen stiff, the expression of confused horror still deeply sketched into his face. He had obviously missed something in the growth of the two partner's relationship, but he wasn't at all surprised. He had guessed they would hook up sooner or later anyway. He'd seen the looks when one thought the other wasn't looking and Mark, not too long ago, had started referring to Jackson as his "better half." So it was inevitable, really. But Derek knew that Mark wasn't the kind of person to show PDA like that, and had definitely never let a nickname like "babe" cross his lips. Hence, the confusion.

During Derek's internal debate, Mark just continued to look at him expectantly, still waiting for his opinion on the plan that Jackson had thought of. But as much as he would like to, he can't let it go, "Why did you call him that?" At the question, Jackson's eyes widened and confusion furrowed Mark's brow. Huh, that's a weird reaction.

"Call him what?" Mark's voice had taken a defensive tone, his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly to the side. Jackson's eyes somehow widened more and, from behind the man in question, he started furiously shaking his head at Derek. Derek didn't seem to notice and went to answer,

"What do you mean 'call him what?' You called him b-" finally he glanced over at Jackson, whose head was moving so fast back and forth that Derek was surprised he wasn't giving himself whiplash. When he made eye contact with the resident's widened eyes, Jackson slowly brought a finger to his lips in the universal gesture of shut up. Without breaking eye contact with the younger man, he continued, "...nevermind, Dr. Avery that is a great idea, can I talk to you?"

Relief coursed through Jackson's veins once he realized that Shepherd wasn't going to tell Mark what was happening. He enjoyed the moment of brief relaxation before he tensed up again once he realized that the neurosurgeon still wanted to talk to him about it. He hadn't felt embarrassment over the nickname in a while, but thinking of explaining it to Shepherd brought a pink hue to his cheeks.

Nevertheless, he gave Mark a reassuring smile and followed the neurosurgeon to a more secluded spot a little way down the hallway. He could still see Mark from where they stopped, he had yet to move. Instead, he was openly staring at the two. Jackson felt a shiver run down his spine when his icy eyes locked onto his and he reveled in the small smile he gave him. Jackson would have been content just staring at Mark for hours, but the sound of Shepherd clearing his throat brought him back to reality. The resident waited a few beats for the other to start talking, but he stayed silent. Jackson decided to play innocent,

"What can I help you with, McDreamy?" That earned him a glare and, although Jackson was terrified and embarrassed, he had to stifle a laugh. Mark had told him he turned into a little shit as some kind of defensive mechanism and he denied it at the time, but now he was inclined to agree with him. What can he say? It makes him feel better.

"I didn't realize that the two of you had started dating?" Jackson's calm exterior immediately crumbled, his gaze dropped to the floor, and a hot flush broke out on his face.

"Actually, we aren't d-dating," he replied softly, hating himself for stammering over such an innocent word just because it was concerning Mark. He cleared his throat and glanced up at Shepherd, surprise was evident on his face.

"If you aren't dating, what was that back there, then?" All anger had leaked out from his tone, and only confused curiosity remained. It was clear that Jackson was going to have to explain the whole situation to yet another person because, from looking at the neurosurgeon's face, he knew that he wasn't getting out of this. So he sighed and started from the beginning,

"Well, a few weeks ago Mar- Dr. Sloan started to call me pet names, babe mostly, and being really affectionate like you saw, and he has no idea that he is doing it. Whenever he's really focused on something he just forgets to filter what he's doing I guess…" he trailed off, his embarrassment getting the best of him.

Derek took a second to think of the years where he was Mark's best friend. He recalled the fact that Mark did struggle to control himself when his mind is completely dedicated to something else. In fact, Derek had learned some pretty good stories from this phenomenon that he hung over Mark's head to this day. But hitting on your crush without realizing it reached a whole new level of embarrassing, Mark would be mortified when he found out.

He knew that he should feel bad for his colleague, but the situation was so bizarre that he couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. Between his (manly) giggles he managed to say, "Oh my god that's amazing," before patting the startled resident on the back, he threw a, "Good luck with that," over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.


	5. On Purpose

Although now he had both his best friend and a respected colleague telling that what he was doing with Mark was weird and Jackson should do something about it, he couldn't do it. He liked the nicknames. He liked the affection. And he liked it a lot. If he told the other man, there was a considerable chance that he would stop doing it and Jackson never wanted him to stop. It was getting so bad that whenever he heard the man call him by his actual name, he wouldn't respond because he hadn't realized that he was talking to him. This made for some embarrassing situations, but for the most part, Mark and his relationship was fine, albeit complicated.

The sound of a harshly turned page and shuffling next to him woke Jackson out of the doze he had fallen into. The warm feeling from both the coffee mug encased in his hands and the brunet seated next to him had convinced him to close his eyes and relax. But now that he was back to his sense he slowly opened his eyes, immediately looking for the source of the noise. He isn't all that surprised to see that Mark had repositioned himself to sit on the edge of his seat, a book tightly grasped in his hands.

Mark had told him that Callie had been going on and on about a stupid book that she had started reading and that she had basically begged him to read it. Apparently, it was set in a futuristic society where androids are a part of everyday life, and the androids start behaving as if they're alive. To be honest, it sounded kick ass to Jackson, especially the leader character that Callie had described, he couldn't imagine being that brave. And when Callie said that Mark needed to read more anyway, Jackson could help but agree, he thought reading fiction was a nice break from reading medical journal after medical journal. Luckily, Jackson knew that Mark couldn't say no to Callie for too long before he broke and gave in.

When Callie had triumphantly placed the book into Mark's hands, he frowned but accepted it anyway and placed it in his bag. Once he arrived at work, he basically hunted down the younger man and insisted that Jackson sit with him while he read it so that "he had someone to make fun of the book with," and, of course, Jackson agreed.

And, sure enough, when they found a break in their busy day, they went to one of the break rooms and sat down side by side on the couch. When Mark had started reading the book, he would casually lean into Jackson's space and whisper into his ear about something stupid that had just happened. But that attitude only lasted for about ten minutes before he suddenly went quiet as he read page after page without a single complaint. Guessing from his body language, Jackson knew that he was absolutely in love with the book, his entire being focused entirely on experiencing the story.

Jackson couldn't help but smile a little at the look of aloof wonderment that shown on Mark's face. He could watch him read for hours, with every new page his expression would shift just slightly to match the feeling of the book. The way his eyebrows rose in surprise at an unexpected outcome or the flare of his nostrils when the characters got hurt. Without even reading the book, Jackson could tell everything that was happening by just watching Mark's face. He loved it.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he could tell from the look on Mark's face that something terrible had just happened to someone. Jackson wanted to pepper kisses along his exposed neck to try to relax the naturally tense man, but he managed to refrain himself and watched his face carefully as he continued reading. It took a few minutes, but the danger seemed to pass as overwhelming relief flooded his features, and he slumped back on the couch, still reading the book. Once the crisis had passed, Jackson inhaled deeply loving the scent of Mark's cologne mixed with coffee before letting his eyes drift shut.

It wasn't long after that that Jackson felt a hand graze across his abs, startled, his eyes flew open. His gaze immediately locked onto Mark's hand patting his stomach, his eyes still glued to the book in his hands. Jackson, too confused and turned on to do much of anything, watches as the steady hand drifts across his body and to the end table. In the effort to reach that far, Mark had ended up pretty much in Jackson's lap, one of his arms still patting around the end table.

Jackson was still recovering from the sudden shocks of need that started shooting down his spine and the impulse to place the wandering hand a little lower on his anatomy when Mark let out a frustrated groan. The sound did nothing to help quell the fantasies that started bombarding his thoughts, but it did tune him back into the issue. One look at his patting hand made him realize what the other was looking for before he even started speaking,

"Could you-" the press of warm ceramic in Mark's hand cut off his plea as he curled his fingers around the coffee cups handle, "ah, thanks, babe." During the whole endeavor, he hadn't looked up from his book once, it was endearing really. Mark's body was still tightly pressed against Jackson's, but neither made any move to return to their previous seating arrangements, instead, Jackson gently laid his arm around the other's shoulders and snuggled a little closer. When Mark still made no move to pull away, the younger man siped at his coffee and let his eyes flutter shut once more.

After a few more minutes, Jackson once again opens his eyes and looks at the clock. Once he realized that his break was over, a groan slips out of his lips as he slowly untangles himself from the man. Once he had fully stood up and made a move to secure his pager to his side, he heard a distracted noise resonate form the other. He knew the man well enough at this point to know that Mark was curious as to where he was headed but too caught up in the book to ask the question entirely.

A bright smile graced his features at the domestic feeling behind how they interacted, it was comforting. But he was always a little surprised at how well they knew each other, easily able to read emotions from body language and understand what the other wants before they know it themselves. Seamless and easy. Somehow, it was, by far, the best relationship that Jackson had ever been in, and they hadn't even started dating yet. He also enjoyed the startled looks the pair got from others when they realized how in sync they are. Especially since they were a well-oiled machine in the OR, knowing precisely what the other needed and able to deliver without so much as a second thought, never requiring to say a single word. It was fucking impressive to watch.

"I have to work the pit with Dr. Bailey, but I'll see you later, sweetheart," after saying his goodbye, he clipped his pager to his waist and tossed his empty cup in the garbage. He heard Mark mumble something else, which Jackson interprets as a, "yup, see you," before he is out the door and on his way to Bailey.

It's only when he is about to step into the pit that his brain fully processed what he had just said to the older man. Jackson's face heated up again and his heart started beating rapidly in his chest. He had momentary deja vu of the first time that Mark had referred to him with a pet name and he had reacted the exact same way. Thinking about the encounter a few weeks ago made him realize that he just did the exact same thing that Mark has been doing. And then it hits him. Although he adored the attention that Mark has been giving him for the past few weeks, he also despised it. Every time was a bitter reminder that he only did those things subconsciously and Jackson desperately wished that he did it on purpose. At least now one of them could do it knowingly.


	6. He is His Something

Soon, Jackson answering with a term of endearment whenever Mark called him "babe" became the new normal. And he loved it. He loved the familiarity of the whole situation, it made him feel secure in the hectic mess that was his life. When he was with the older man, he felt the stress of his life fade away, happiness and peace filling their place. Knowing that Mark and him shared this unique, unreplicable bond made him feel special. Mark made him feel special. The only other thing that made him feel the same level of contentedness was reading.

He was currently at home, curled up in the living room in the middle of the night. Jackson had started calling Meredith's house, The Mini Hospital, when he started living here a few months ago. Since nearly all residents lived here, it seemed like the only appropriate name for the living space. The only other people that knew the nickname was April and, of course, Mark, who never stopped thinking it was funny that we all shared a space both at the hospital and at home.

He was sitting cross-legged on the plush cushions of the couch, his legs holding open a book in his lap. The book he decided to read was the same one that he had watched Mark read. After the older man had finally finished the book, he couldn't stop talking to Jackson about how amazing it was, although he still acted like it was trash when talking to Callie. Eventually, Mark basically shoved the book into his hands and told him to read it immediately. So that night, he settled in to start reading the book, it had only been a few hours, but he was almost halfway done. Because, damn they weren't kidding when they said it was a captivating read. It was nearly 2 in the morning, and he still showed no signs of wanting to stop reading for the night in favor of getting a decent amount of sleep.

Jackson loved reading at this time of night. When the only sound was the occasion creek of the house settling or the splash of raindrops against the windows. The peacefulness of the lamp that bathed him in warm, yellow light, the only thing besides the moon to combat the darkness of the house. The sweet smell of chamomile that drifted off the surface of the tea and floated into his nose, the heated ceramic warming his hands. The weight of a good book in his lap, a story woven in the letter of each word, working together to tell an adventure. It was a picture perfect moment of relaxation.

When he was younger at least.

But now he felt the distinct feeling that something was missing, something big and important. Something pressed against his side, a head laying on his shoulder, precise hands dancing across his skin. Something with an ear to whisper into and a cheek to kiss. Without this something, his perfect moment felt imperfect, incomplete.

Until it came bursting through the door.

He had just brought his cup of tea to his lips when the front door banged open. Alex must have forgotten to lock the door when he came home, it was understandable since he hadn't been able to save a single person today. Of course, none of the deaths were his direct fault, it was impossible to think rationally when you can feel their heart stop pumping under your hands. When he had finally gotten home, he slammed the front door closed and immediately went to his room for the night. No one had bothered him, just left him alone to de-stress. Jackson hoped desperately that the sound the front door made when hitting the wall didn't wake him up.

But that wish became a lot less likely when he saw none other than Mark Sloan, to be more specific, _drunk_ Mark Sloan come stumbling through the open door yelling, "I'm home, babe!" His slurred speech made it hard to distinguish exactly what he said, but Jackson had spent enough time with Drunk Mark to be able to decipher the mess misplaced vowels and poor diction. He watched, a little horrified and scared for the durability of the door, as Mark spun around and slammed it shut again.

The initial shock faded away as worry creased his brow as he took in the other's appearance. He watched Mark sway in the hallway for a second, his jacket sleeve was torn off, and he had a nasty bruise growing on his cheek. He must have been in the rain for a while too, seeing as his hair was wet, sticking stubbornly to his forehead. His clumsiness was partially because he was missing one of his shoes and the sock that was revealed was caked in mud, leaving brown spots on the floor.

He quickly put down his cup of tea on the end table and closed his book, not bothering to mark the page, Mark's safety took precedence over page numbers any day. Uncrossing his legs, he moved to stand up, but the movement had attracted Mark's attention, and Jackson froze as his inebriated icy blue eyes made contact with his. The older man's face immediately lit up, a loose, drunken smile spreading across his lips. For someone as drunk, he was, he could move frighteningly fast, and before Jackson knew what was happening, he had a lap full of plastic surgeon.

Much like how they fell asleep in the on-call a week or two ago, Mark wasted no time in wrapping himself around Jackson. Both of his legs were laying off to one side, his butt firmly planted onto Jackson's thighs and his torso twisted so that he could wrap his arms around the resident. His hands almost painfully digging into his sides as he desperately hugged him, almost as if Mark thought that Jackson would break free and leave. He pressed his face into the crook of the younger man's neck, Jackson could feel the dampness of his hair and the bristles of his beard against his skin.

It took less than a minute for the breathing he felt on his neck to slow down and a snore to escape Mark's throat. He fell asleep. But when Jackson moved even a little bit, testing to see how attached they were, Mark whimpered and tightened his grip around him. Jackson froze, heart, melting at this new side of Mark, thoroughly enjoying it. Jackson, surprisingly used to this behavior by now, rubs a hand on and down the sleeping man's back and plants a small kiss to his exposed cheek, whispering, "Welcome home, dear." Carefully, he picks his book back up and opens it, spending a second to find his page, before continuing to read from where he left off.

Once again, he felt the feeling of complete relaxation. Jackson no longer felt the nagging feeling that something was missing, something big and important. Because he had something pressed against his side and a head laying on his shoulder. He felt hands on his skin, gripping tightly to his shirt, magnificent finger flexing against his back and sides. He had an ear to whisper in and a cheek to kiss. With his something, his perfect moment couldn't have felt any better.

This same content feeling is what Jackson wakes up to. A sleepy smile slides onto his face when he sees that Mark is still curled around him. His breathing still slow and even, snores slipping out every so often. The younger man takes a second to revel in the feeling of waking up next to this handsome man cuddling him. The light of the slowly rising sun filtering through the window, highlighted the man tangled around him, making him look glow.

The stench of alcohol that still lingered on the older man's clothes reminded Jackson of the killer hangover that Mark was going to have when he woke up. He had helped Mark a lot with hangovers in the past, so he knew just what to do to make him feel better.

But first, he had to get up.

Luckily, the arms wrapped around his torso loosened while Mark had slept and he was able to carefully slip out of them. He slowly unburied his head from Jackson's neck, making sure to keep his eyes away from the rising sun. With some more delicate maneuvers Jackson through his hands up in victory when he successfully got out without waking the Mark up. Before going to the kitchen, he made sure to throw a blanket on top of the man, worried he would get cold without Jackson's body heat.

Walking silently to the kitchen he turned on the coffee maker, making sure that he put in an extra scoop of grounds to make it more bitter that the two would usually drink it. While that was brewing, he pulled out some bread and slipped it into the toaster, leaning his hip on the counter he waited patiently for it to pop. Sliding it onto a plate, he layered on butter until both pieces had a greasy shine to them. Pulling down a shaker of cinnamon and sugar, he sprinkled the white and brown granules onto the toast coating it nearly completely. He poured a generous amount of the black coffee into a ceramic mug before grabbing the chocolate syrup out of the fridge and squeezing a good amount into the coffee, stirring it together as he goes. Satisfied, he picked up the plate and mug off the counter and placed it in front of the sleeping man on the coffee table.

Sitting next to the food, he cupped Mark's head in his hand, running his thumb gently over the discolored cheek. The bruise had turned an ugly shade of black and blue over the few hours of sleep they got. Doing one more once over, Jackson sighed in relief when he saw that, besides the bruise, Mark had no other physical injuries, it seemed that his clothes had taken most of the hits. Getting one last look at the peaceful expression on his face, he slowly shook his shoulder.

"C'mon, wake up, Gorgeous," his eyes fluttered open, and he blinked a few times before he let out a yell of agony, hands immediately moving to cradle his head and cover his eyes. Jackson rubbed the other man's bicep in a soothing pattern, "I made you your weird-ass hangover cure, can you sit up, so you eat it?" The only answer he got was another low groan, and Jackson took that as a yes and started helping him up, careful not to jostle his head too much. Once he got him into a sitting position, he pushed the mug of coffee into one of Mark's hands, but he made no move to drink it, instead looked into Jackson's eyes and let out a small whimper.

He melted a little at the display before pushing the mug a little closer to his body, "Honey, drink the coffee, it'll make you feel better, yeah?" He nodded so very slightly and sipped at the sugary coffee. He coughed a little at the first few swallows and looked back at Jackson, the younger man gave him his winning smile and picked up the plate, moving it a little closer to his hands.

It took Mark a second to take the hint, but he eventually grabbed one of the slices and took a bite. No matter how many times Jackson sees it happen, he still didn't believe it. But as soon as he swallowed the one bite of toast he was suddenly rejuvenated. He grabbed the plate from Jackson's hands and consumed the remaining toast like a zombie during an apocalypse. After the plate was empty, he chugged the rest of the coffee and slammed both dishes back onto the table.

Once he had finished his meal, he returned Jackson's wavering smile with a wide one of his own before he clasped a hand over his mouth and made a sprint to the bathroom. Jackson, knowing exactly what was happening slowly trailed behind him, closing the bathroom door behind him. He looked sympathetically over at the older man hunched over the toilet, a disgusting heaving sound emanating from his mouth. Jackson dropped into a sitting position next to him, leaning his back against the wall he slowly rubbed his hand up and down his back.

Eventually, Mark's stomach settled down, and he lifts a limp hand to flush the toilet before placing his forehead against the cool ceramic, getting his breath back. Jackson shook his head, "I don't know why you trick yourself into eating all that sugar just to make yourself throw up, there are plenty of other ways to go about a hangover y'know?" Mark weakly lifted his head to look at the younger man, before pulling himself to sit next to him.

"Yeah I know, but you can't say this method doesn't work," a smirk curled his lips and, usually, that would make Jackson feel better about tricking the man, but the bruise coupled with the dark circles under his eyes made him feel worse. He raised a gentle hand to cup his face and once again ghosted a thumb over his injured cheek.

"What happened to you before you stumbled into my house?" He at least had the decency to look sheepish at the question. Jackson realized that he had made Mark nervous when he started pulling his own sleeve, a strange habit that the resident had picked up on. But he was much too curious to take back the question, wanting desperately to know who injured Mark.

"Well I was at Joe's, and I overheard some fucking nobody doctors talking shit about someone I care about so I beat the hell out of them," he gestured to his face, "and one of them managed to get a shot in." Jackson blinked at the older man, picturing him fighting to protect someone's dignity was surprisingly hot. But he couldn't hold back the wave of jealousy at this someone that Mark cares about,

"Who were they talking about?" Mark slowly looked up and made eye contact with Jackson, his eyes flickering with an emotion that Jackson surprisingly couldn't identify. The nervous pulling on his sleeve got a little faster, but Jackson still couldn't get himself to take the question back.

"You."

Oh.

Wow, picturing Mark fighting to protect his honor was much hotter. He knew that he was somebody that Mark cared about, but hearing him say it made Jackson's heart flutter in his chest. He scooted a tad closer to the man, "Thank you for protecting my honor," a slight tone of humor emanated from his words, "But I wish that you hadn't gotten hurt doing so," his thumb moved back over his cheek.

Mark brought his hand to rest over Jackson's, "It'll take a lot more than a bruise to get me to stop." The whole situation felt extremely intimate, Jackson leaned forward a little more all thoughts screaming to kiss him until he remembers why they were sitting on the bathroom floor. He regretfully pulled away, dragging his hand down his arm as he did so, and started to stand up,

"You brush your teeth while I get some of the clothes you keep leaving here," Mark nodded absentmindedly watching as he left. Once they were both dressed and ready to go, they both curled up on the sofa again and watched everyone else in house dragging themselves out of their rooms and to the coffee maker. Mark and him laughed at the arguing and yelling of the half-asleep zombies as they went about their morning routines.

In that moment he enjoyed the domesticality of the whole thing. Like they've been married for a long time, and this is a flow that they've had for a decade. Waking up early, talking, making fun of their children as they stumble about the house. It made a warm feeling blossom in his chest and a soft smile to curl his lips. He was happy.

Until he wasn't.


	7. Last Straw

Jackson knew that his life was hard, after all, he was a surgeon, and that's just in the job description. He cut people open every day. Sometimes he managed to save them but most of the time he couldn't. Today he couldn't.

Not only did he lose a patient that he particularly liked, but April also wasn't talking to him for some unknown reason, Christiana poured hot coffee over his pants, and he couldn't find Mark. A migraine was beating just behind his eyes like someone kept pounding a hammer against the instead of his skull. The lights were too bright. The crowds too noisy. It was one of those days where all you want to do is go back to bed and curl up into the sheets because it feels like the universe itself is rejecting you. All he wanted to do was find Mark and just take a few minutes out of his grueling day to be next to him, to breathe him in and hear his voice. It was the only thing that helped him when he got this way.

When he finally spotted the older man he made a direct beeline for him, blocking everything else in his vision out. He immediately leaned down slightly to press his face into Mark's shoulder. The coolness of the jacket but the warmth of Mark's arm doing wonders for his pounding head and flushed skin. He felt one of the older man's hands come to rest on his waist and pull him slightly so that Jackson's head leaned against his chest instead. One of his hands stayed on his waist while the other rubbed a hand up and down his back.

"Rough day?" Jackson still couldn't bring himself to speak, the overwhelmed feeling clogging his throat. Instead, he nodded his head slowly, even the feel of the fabric scratching at his cheek was almost too much on his delicate senses.

Unfortunately, Mark had seen Jackson like this a few times before. It horrified Mark when Jackson shared what he has to go through on a daily basis, almost not believing all the shit people say to him. Usually, Jackson was able to push through it with a smile on his face, but sometimes it's one thing too much, and he needs a break from the pressure, the expectations. And he always came to Mark to take this break.

Even though it was rare that Jackson actually spoke or moved too much when he felt this way, Mark had slowly learned what made him feel better. The last time this had happened, it was a particularly bad one, and Jackson had curled into his side while he was reading. Although Mark couldn't actually see his face, the small gasps and shaking shoulders made it obvious that he was crying. And it broke his heart into a million pieces seeing him that way.

So Mark did the first thing that came to mind, he started reading out loud from his book. It only took a few minutes for the quiet sobs to stop and his glossy eyes to peek up from Mark's shoulder. It didn't take much longer for his to figure out that Jackson liked the sound of his voice, that for some reason it calmed him down considerably. So looking down at the darker skinned man hiding his head in his chest he did what he did best.

He started talking.

He told Jackson one of his more embarrassing stories from college, he would never think of telling anyone else it. As the story progressed, Jackson let out a small chuckle here and there but when Mark said, "And that's how I ended up naked in a stranger's hot tub, clutching a bottle of tequila while chocolate syrup dripped down my face," a full-blown laugh escaped his lips. Through his laughter, he is able to squeeze out a,

"Wow, that is the best story I've ever heard," before dissolving into giggles again. Mark had started laughing too, Jackson's smile infectious. They enjoyed that moment for a few seconds before Mark sobered up and asked,

"Feeling better now, babe?" Hearing the question, Jackson immediately stopped laughing. He suddenly felt angry. All of the negative emotions that had built up during the course of the day accumulated into one thought. Fuck it. He looked at Mark's confused gaze and basically growled, "Okay, that's it," before roughly grabbing Mark's hand and dragging him towards the nearest on-call room. He completely ignored all of Mark's question about where they were going or what was happening, instead, he just tightened his grip and continued on his angry march.

Forcefully pulling him into on-call room, Jackson turns and grabs him by the shoulders, slamming him against the closed door and trapping him in a bruising kiss. His right hand pushing against the door to make it so nobody could open it from the outside. Mark's eyes widened in surprise when he felt soft lips pushing against his and a tongue pressing against his mouth. Almost instinctively he opened his mouth to the assault and started kissing back with the same amount of urgency.

"What? Why are you kissing me?" Mark manages to ask when Jackson pulls back slightly to breathe. Jackson lets out a harsh, degrading laugh before running his tongue over his lips before speaking,

"You've been calling me babe for like weeks at this point, and I can't take it anymore so just fuck me." He roughly shoves a thigh in between Mark's legs rubbing against his awakening cock, as Jackson leans back to start pulling his coat off his shoulders. Mark lets out a sharp moan managing to mumble,

"I have?" Instead of answering, Jackson places his lips back on Mark's, and he can feel him give in, as he started kissing back full force. Jackson's thigh is rubbing against his crotch, and Mark moans against the kiss, head thudding slightly against the door.

He needs more. Right now.

Mark trails a hand down Jackson's side before letting go in favor of gripping the cool metal of the handle. Jackson hears the rattle that the handle makes and quickly pulls away, panicking that Mark was about to push Jackson off of him to make his escape. But the click of the lock engaging smothers any of those thoughts as Mark pulls him back into a hungry kiss.

Jackson's continuous grinding against Mark's crotch makes the task of taking off his coat extremely challenging before he feels Jackson smile through the kiss and lifts his hands to help push the fabric off his shoulders. Once they are both coat free, Mark pulls at the hem of Jackson's shirt impatiently, a small whimper escaping from his throat, muffled by Jackson's mouth. He takes the hint, pulling away slightly to make it easier for the other man to pull the shirt up and off his torso, exposing his elegantly muscled body.

Jackson goes back in for another kiss, but Mark stops him by placing a finger against his lips, confusion furrows Jackson's brow before he sees the older man's eyes wandering over his dark skin. His other hand slowly dragging across his stomach, fingers dancing over his ribs, dipping into his belly button. Jackson watches Mark's mouth curl into a small smile as he looks up from his body to make eye contact again,

"Holy fuck, babe," the use of the nickname while Mark absentmindedly stroked his naked torso was almost too much for him. It was such a simple combination, but he had never been turned on more. A low growl pushes past his lips before he huskily whispers,

"Now you," roughly tugging off Mark's shirt and admiring the exposed skin, his muscles rippling and contracting with the effort to not fuck him right then and there. Jackson leaned down and started placing hungry, open mouth kisses on the exposed neck and chest, loving the trail of deep bruises he's leaving on the other's chest, his thigh still grinding against Mark's.

Mark grabs his chin and pulls him back into a kiss, tongues tangling and fighting for dominance, while Mark traces the side of Jackson's torso with feather-light touches, all the way down to cup two handfuls of his perfectly sculpted ass. Mark loves the breathy moan Jackson makes at the motion and how the friction against his crotch speeds up.

Mark then physically hauls Jackson's entire body up by his butt, leaving the younger man no choice but to hook his ankles around Mark's waist and his arms around his neck to avoid falling. Mark carries him a few steps, before dropping him right on the bed, the sudden action causing Jackson to gasp in surprise but chuckles a little when he bounces up and down slightly. But Mark harshly pushing him down and straddling his lap causes his laugh to crumble into a moan.

Mark makes a show of slowly, kissing, marking and licking his way down Jackson's exposed body, loving the tiny moans and gasps he drew out. He gives each nipple special attention, tugging, licking and biting each one before going a little lower and sucking a mark on each one of his ribs. Jackson is moaning loudly at each mark and gripping Mark's hair tightly in one hand while the other is holding the sheets for dear life, his fingers flexing as Mark gets lower and lower.

Finally, he makes it to the waistband of his light blue scrubs, Jackson wiggles his hips as Mark yanks them down and off, throwing them somewhere in the room, the boxers soon landing next to them in a pile. Mark settles between the dark-skinned legs, fingers tracing the defined thigh muscles. He is openly admiring Jackson's hard member, a bead of precum squeezing out of the head was a beautiful color contrast to his skin tone.

Looking down at Jackson he could tell that a red flush had spread down his chest, getting as low as his cock. He couldn't help the teasing smirk that pulled at his lips, "Who would've guessed that you were a full body blusher?" Jackson whines at that, his arm swinging over his face as he buries his eyes in his elbow. "Hey hey, none of that," Mark chastises, kissing down the length of his forearm, "It's adorable." He abandons his arm in favor of slowly kissing the plump, swollen lips loving the chuckle that vibrates against his mouth.

Jackson takes his hand off of his eyes in favor of pushing Mark back down towards his cock, the action succeeds in pulling a laugh out of the older man as he lets Jackson push him. He brings his face mere inches away, giving the head an experimental lick, loving how Jackson moans at such a small touch. He starts lapping at the head, dragging his tongue along the slit watching as a shiver racks the younger man's frame.

Mark brings one of his hands up towards Jackson's face, pressing against his lips. Without a second thought, Jackson opened his mouth and welcomed the digits, licking and sucking on them. Jackson moaned, grabbing at Mark's shoulder and closing his eyes, losing himself in the rhythmic sucking as Mark's breath grazed his hard member.

Jackson let out of moan and sucked harder at the fingers when he felt Mark flick his tongue out, to lick up Jackson's cock, wrapping his lips around the head. Jackson moaned, the soft warmth of Mark's mouth sending a shock through Jackson' whole body. Mark lowered his head, taking Jackson' cock into his mouth until his lips pressed into the skin around the base of his dick, his beard tickling at Jackson' skin.

And god, that felt good, insanely good.

Jackson's hips involuntarily twitched up, pushing against Mark's face, the hold Mark had on his thighs tightening until the grip was almost painful. Jackson didn't care, couldn't care, not when Mark was hollowing his cheeks and sending vibrations shooting up through his dick whenever Jackson tugged his hair.

He was so far gone that he didn't even notice when the fingers slipped out of his mouth until he felt them pressing against his entrance. Jackson moaned, throwing his head back as he grabbed a tighter hold of Mark's hair. He pushed up against the warm heat of Mark's mouth, his hips twitching as he felt the finger push deeper inside of him.

Jackson couldn't keep still, wiggling back and forth, first pushing up into Mark's mouth before pushing down on his finger. Heat licked up his spine, and he moaned again, sucking in a deep breath as his heart raced. All too soon, Mark pulled off of the dick with a pop and pulled out his finger and started kissing at Jacksons' hip bone and sucking in another bruise.

He sucked harder than he had before, nipping the skin with sharper teeth and the flash of pain went straight to Jackson's dick, causing him to let out a loud moan. Once he seemed satisfied he followed the faint line of Jackson's abdomen, sucking and biting as he went. Mark didn't stop until Jackson was panting for breath, his fingers tangled into the sheets, a line of bruises surrounding his cock and thighs. Jackson finally felt the finger push back against his entrance, but a sob escaped him when he felt Mark dart back upwards to kiss over the marks again, refusing to push the finger back in. It was torturous,

"Please, Mar—" a long moan cutting him off when Mark took his sensitive head into mouth again and sucked. Mark looking up at him, smirking with his mouth full of Jackson's cock was the only warning he got before Mark suddenly shoved three fingers into his tight hole.

Jackson threw his head back at the sensation, he felt like was being split open, the burn almost getting to be too much until one of the skilled fingers brushed against the spot that made him see stars. His head lulled to the side in pleasure, a loud moan ripping out of his throat as he finally felt himself loosening as Mark started speeding up the movement of his wrist.

Jackson started desperately moving his hips to meet each thrust, hands clawing at the sheets of the bed. Suddenly he was fucking himself on three of Mark's fingers. Mark's hand barely moving anymore, instead, he started, mesmerized by Jackson's fast moving hips, his back arching off the bed, eyes squeezed shut.

Jackson is a complete mess at this point, he's sobbing with pleasure, pulling roughly at Mark's hair and his fingers are sore from gripping the sheets. But even though he is enjoying the experience immensely, he felt impatience gnawing at him.

He wanted more. So much more.

Jackson leans down to pull Mark's fingers out before lying back down on his back, pulling Mark's hair until they are eye level again. Usually, a sloppy, open mouth kiss to distract him, Jackson surprises Mark by flipping them over so that Mark laid on his back with Jackson straddling him. He saw a flash of hunger and lust flicker in Jackson's eyes as he ripped Mark's

pants and boxers off, simultaneously slipping his "just in case" condom out of his back pocket before throwing the useless fabric onto the floor.

To worked up to take his time, Jackson puts the condom packet into his mouth, ripping it open with his teeth before pulling the rubber out of the package. The slight of a naked Jackson kneeling with his hard member flush against his torso that's completely covered in marks, ripping a condom packet open with his teeth almost has Mark coming right there. He has never been more turned on.

Jackson doesn't miss a beat, as soon as the condom is free, he is rolling it onto Mark's dick, quickly spitting in his hand and running his hand up and down the cock, making sure its slick. Mark's sluggish brain causes him to take a little longer to figure out what Jackson was doing, but when it clicks into place, he can't help the moan that erupts from his throat. He throws his head back, creative swears freely flowing from his mouth, "Oh my fucking god, Jackson."

Mark watches with wide eyes, dilated pupils devouring a majority of his iris, as Jackson positions himself over the other, lining himself up before slowly he lowering himself down until his fully seated. Jackson's head falls forward, the feeling of Mark's cock filling him up making it impossible for his neck to support him any longer. After taking a second to get used to the feeling, Jackson lifts his head, making heated eye contact with the older man. He reveled in the expression of lust that opened his mouth in a silent moan and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't move until Mark returned his heated gaze, Jackson gave him a smirk before pulling all the way off and impaling himself back down.

Their moans mingled, harmonizing in the most perfect way. Jackson didn't stop there, he continues the absolutely punishing pace, yelling and swearing everytime he moves in a way that has Mark' tip grazing against his prostate. Jackson clenches around him purposefully at some points, and it feels fucking amazing. All of this does. Both men are in absolute heaven, but it still isn't enough. Mark strokes Jackson's sides as he continues riding him at an almost agonizingly fast speed.

"Jackson," he says like a plead, "I need—" Jackson starts moving faster without waiting for him to finish the sentence. He begins rising and falling until he's bouncing in Mark' lap, the thick sound of their skin colliding eliciting each time.

"Fuck," he hisses, "fuck, you feel so good." He's panting with the movement, sweat building up at his hairline as he takes and gives pleasure. Mark is left in awe, watching and admiring. He feels incredible, there is no other feeling could ever be able to top this. Jackson begins to move impossibly faster, harder, body seeming to be overcome with desperation.

Marks' name escapes his lips over and over and over again, jumbled in with swears and praises of how good Mark is making him feel, how good he feels. Jackson raises himself nearly all the way off of Mark's cock before sinking back down. "God, how do you feel so good?" he gasps, fucking himself on Mark's cock again and again. He moves as fast as his legs can manage until his thighs are sore and cramping and he has to push through it to keep riding Mark. Jackson's legs were on fire, burning from the constant punishing motion but he couldn't seem to stop. He didn't want to.

Mark, noticing the tremor in the muscular thighs and the sloppier movements, puts his hand on Jackson's waist stopping his thrusts and pulls him in for another kiss before flipping them over once more. Crashing their lips together hungrily before Jackson threw his head back, moaning openly now. Wasting no time, Mark plants his feet on the mattress and bucks his hips up quickly, fucking Jackson as hard as he can.

Jackson just holds on for the ride, babbling more random words and phrases into Mark's ear that makes less and less sense, too overwhelmed by the pleasure to properly vocalize his thoughts. Mark's cock hits his prostate on every other thrust, and it gets to be so much after a while that he can't talk anymore. His mouth hangs open to let out moan after moan, and the sounds only get louder when Mark latches onto his neck and bites and sucks on the sensitive skin, marking him up. With his cock trapped between their stomachs, the glans was repeatedly rubbing back and forth across the ridges of Mark's abs every time he fucks up into him.

"Fuck, Jackson..." Mark mouthed at his partner's shoulder, almost grimacing as he tried to not just lose himself then and there, abs tensing as his hips set a punishing pace. Seeing Jackson fall apart was the hottest thing that Mark had ever seen. As Mark' hips picked up their rhythm, Jackson's cries only grew steadily louder, eyes clouded over with pleasure, back arched close to breaking point.

Mark leaned down fully then, crushing his chest to the other man, hips crashing down faster and faster, each thrust sending waves of pleasure down his length, causing stars to dance across Jackson's vision. The sound of their hips meeting was lewd, but neither seemed to care, though Mark did briefly worry for the sanity of anyone walking by who could hear them, Mark had to pull Jackson into a kiss in an attempt to muffle his screams.

"Mark-" His voice was cut off by another moan as the larger man continued pistoning in and out of him, he soon found it impossible to even try to form a coherent sentence. "I-it feels- I feel-" Mark knew there was no way he would last much longer, the sense of urgency rising within him. In an attempt to help get him there even faster he snaked a hand down to stroke Jackson's leaking cock in time with his thrusts.

"You're amazing Jackson," Mark could barely control his babbling, "God, you're so amazing." That seemed to do it for the Jackson, Mark watching with awe as the body beneath him going rigid, yelling out his name for a final time as he released between their bodies, navels being smeared in the liquid.

"Fuck," Jackson was sobbing against him, overstimulated as Mark' thrusts lost their brutal rhythm to crash down haphazardly. "Fuck-" Mark felt himself beginning to peak as a guttural noise erupted from him, caging the younger man beneath him as he bucked up into his lover. "Oh, fuck...Mark..." The sensations he was being overwhelmed by were indescribable, focused entirely on his cock and the feeling of Jackson clenching around him during his climax, watching Jackson lose his decorum as he cried out and swore over and over again, nails raking down Marks' back.

Suddenly, his entire body seemed to erupt with absolute euphoria, as he finally released deep into the other man, head buried into the other's chest as he rode out his orgasm, hips still twitching. The two continued to slowly rock together until they gradually came to a stop, overheated breaths coming out in hot pants against each other's lips as they stared into each other.

Mark collapsed onto Jackson's chest, laying there focusing on being able to breathe again. Jackson was also having a hard time catching his breath, "Fuck Mark, that was amazing," between heavy breaths. Mark chuckled a little, lifting his head up before pecking a quick kiss to Jackson's bruised lips before pulling out with a groan causing one last moan from the younger man.

He quickly peels off the condom, tying it before tossing it into the trash and returning to Jackson's side. Pulling the exhausted man into a soft kiss, they both let out a content sigh, cherishing the feeling of their lips pressed together, the unmistakable sense of perfection. Jackson pulls away and instead pushes his head onto Mark's chest, feeling his heart steadily pumping, and his chest rises with each breath.

It's been a long time since he been fucked so thoroughly, all tension in his shoulders dissipated and his body felt heavy with exhaustion. He would've fallen asleep right then, the weight of Mark's hand gripping his shoulder and his body heat engulfing him. But no, as soon as Jackson closed his eyes to drift off, Mark spoke,

"So what happened?" Jackson lets out a tired sigh before turning onto his stomach, folding his arms over Mark's chest and laying his head on his arms. Jackson melted a little bit when he looked into the brilliant blue eyes that shouted his curiosity. He let out another sigh, chuckling a little at the pout that had formed on the older man's face. He couldn't deny that face.

So he told Mark what had happened the last couple weeks.

It was kind of weird to explain what happened to someone that had been there for the entire thing. But any doubt that Jackson had that Mark had been playing him, disappeared once he saw the look of absolute horror that etched itself deeper into his face with every story. About halfway through the telling him what happened during his conversation with Shepherd, he brought his hands to his face.

"I can't believe I did that, why didn't you stop me?" Jackson laughed at that, sending vibrations through Mark's body. The younger man shrugged,

"I liked it, I didn't want you to stop." Ignoring the way Mark's hands fell from his eyes and his jaw dropped, Jackson continued on with the story. Once he had started to explain what happened while Mark was reading, his eyelids started getting heavier. The farther he slipped into unconsciousness, the harder time he had at keeping some aspects of the story to himself. Without realizing it, he literally told Mark everything. _Everything_.

How Mark merely touching his torso turned him on, how they had cuddled twice without him knowing, how often he had to hold himself back from kissing him right in front of everyone. Everything. But most of all he let it slip that he started calling Mark his own terms of endearment. He didn't notice Mark tense when he quoted what he had said when he woke Mark up from his drunken coma, his exhaustion slurring his words,

"And I looked at how pretty you were while you were sleeping before I woke you up saying something like 'wake up, Gorgeous,' and then-" but Mark cut him off,

"You started doing it back?" The sudden question momentarily pulls Jackson out of his mechanical storytelling. He realizes what he just revealed, and his eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at Mark. He tried to stay silent and just refuse to tell Mark, but the longer he felt his eyes on him, the more his resolution crumbled. Finally, he gave in returning the gaze he answered,

"...yeah." There's a long pause while they just stare into each other's eyes. Jackson notices that Mark is completely awestruck, a look of disbelief evident on his face, like he thought that no one would ever do that for him. The thought sends a pang of sadness through his heart, promising that if Mark lets him, he will never let this man go a day without knowing how amazing he is. When a few minutes ticked by without the older man making any effort to speak, Jackson gently takes one of his hands, tightly intertwining their fingers, "What's wrong, baby?"

Mark's gaze suddenly snaps back to Jackson's, his body language screamed his insecurities and confusion tugged his lips down into a frown. When he still didn't make any move to answer the question, Jackson pulled his hands towards his lips and started peppering his palm and fingers with kisses. "C'mon, tell me what you're thinking, darling. I can see the gears spinning in your head."

"Why?" Mark finally manages to ask, Jackson could tell that he was right on the edge.

"Why what, handsome?" That seemed to do it, suddenly Mark was up, pacing back and forth in the small room, his hands pulling stressfully at his hair. Jackson, having dealt with Pacing Mark before, just turned onto his side and watched him move, knowing that he was about to explain himself.

"Why are you calling me those names? You don't like me, you were just having a bad day and wanted to have sex and I was there and that's why this happened at all but there is no way that you actually like me," Mark's rambling had reached a record-breaking speed, but Jackson had no trouble following along with what he was saying. And he didn't like it, he didn't like it at all. He would kill the person that made such a wonderful human being so cripplingly insecure.

He sat up from his relaxed position, crossing his legs and patting the empty space next to him, "Come sit down." Mark slowly stopped pacing and shyly shuffled to sit next to the younger man. Jackson placed a hand delicately against the cheek that was still slightly discolored from the injury he sustained a few days ago. He gently pulled him into another kiss, this one is much different from the prior ones they had exchanged. It's less desperate and needy, no longer fueled by desire but instead by something much more innocent, it lasts for only a few seconds, but both men feel the connection. When Jackson pulls away, he tilts his head to rest on Mark's forehead, looking deeply into the other's eyes.

"Mark, I'm calling you pet names because I like using them and I like when you use them. Because I do like you, like really like you. And yes, I _was_ having a bad day, but you are the person I always seek out to make me feel better. You make me feel happy, relaxed and special, you make me feel like my own person and not just a pretty boy trying to live up to my grandfather's image like everyone else thinks. On top of your loving heart and obvious talent as a plastic surgeon, you're also super hot, how could I not like you?" The last sentence dragged a deep laugh out of Mark, as he smiled goofily at Jackson. Mark placed a hand onto the back of Jackson's head and pulled him into another kiss.

"Damn, I'm kind of in love with you, babe."

"I'm kind of in love with you too, sweetheart."


End file.
